


Friends

by esuterutomoru



Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Beach Sex, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 02:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13401213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esuterutomoru/pseuds/esuterutomoru
Summary: Wrathion likes using his mouth a bit too much, and Anduin is helpless against him.





	Friends

_ “Wrathion? Do you think of us as friends?” _

_ Wrathion actually looked surprised at the question, and that amused Anduin a little. He tilted his turbaned head to one side and pursed his lips, pondering the query. _

_ “Yes,” he said at last. “As much as I can have a friend, at any rate.” _

_ Anduin smiled ruefully at the amendment. “Then . . . can we just . . . stay here in comfortable silence for a while? As friends?” _

_ “Why yes, of course,” Wrathion said. _

_ And so they did. _

 

**Friends**

 

For a while, at least. Five minutes barely passed and Wrathion was already opening his mouth. Anduin wasn’t entirely surprised, the black prince always had something to say, after all. Still, he turned and looked him in the eyes. He supposed his expression was scolding enough, as it made Wrathion at least pause and reconsider speaking. One couldn’t expect more from him, given who he was.

He sighed when Wrathion made to open his mouth again anyways, all his exasperation an immature expression of fondness.

“I know,” he said, forgiving. “Comfortable silences are directly contrary to your nature.”

Wrathion’s grin was small, lopsided. It didn’t sit quite right on his lips, but it looked just perfect. “What can I say? My mouth gets cold if I don’t use it.”

Anduin felt his fingers wrap around his, and he was flooded with warmth at once. It was dark outside, so he hoped his blush wasn’t visible, but he couldn’t be sure. Wrathion was a dragon, his sight had to be far more advanced than a human’s.

“Now, what’s the matter?”

Sure enough, he was always ready to tease. Anduin dipped his chin and closed his eyes.

“I was just about to suggest you could help me warm up, but maybe you’re not interested?”

He did have a terribly pretty voice, Wrathion. Silky and smooth, a playful tone that tickled your ear and sneaked under your skin to make you break out in goosebumps. Anduin chanced a nervous glance to his side and in the darkness he saw a pair of burning red, bright and beautiful as rubies, and he knew those eyes and the look in them. Wrathion was in  _ that  _ mood, and seeing it, he was scared and filled with longing at the same time.

“N-No… I mean…” He stammered. “...t-that’s not it. It’s just… it is cold… and we’re…” He looked around. Not a soul beside them. He was shivering, but less from the cold and more from the thumb stroking his palm. And those eyes, seeming to stare right under his clothes, searching, knowing.

“Yes?” Wrathion murmured. He was leaning closer, a little closer, until his mouth was right at Anduin’s ear, breathing damp, warm air. “We are?”

Anduin’s breath hitched. It was low, that voice, and mean somehow, but deceptively sweet and patient, confusing, so good. “W-We’re outside!” He whispered, wrenching himself, as though jerking free from a tempting dream, to the side, away from the black prince. His hand snatched away and it was freezing without the tender fingers around it. He regretted it at once, but maybe it was too late. Or maybe, it didn’t matter. Wrathion’s gaze was still on him and he was coming closer. And Light help him, he wanted him to come closer. “Wrathion! Please!”

“Oh, I like that,” Wrathion purred, taking a step towards him.

Anduin stepped back, the sand soft and squishy under his boots, unstable, and he wobbled, arms shooting out to steady himself. Wrathion laughed, but his arms were around his waist and they tottered together, just for a second, then stood steady, pressed front to front, foreheads touching. Anduin realized he was hanging onto Wrathion’s arms, and his heart was beating far too fast for it to be healthy. He could feel Wrathion’s smile, lopsided and handsome, terrible, but so terribly perfect. He huffed, turned his head away, and sank his fingers tight into the warm flesh he felt under those extravagant clothes.

“Would you mind?”

“Yes, I would,” Wrathion was quick to quip back. As a retort, his own hands pressed against the small of Anduin’s back, near his spine, pulling his hips closer, tighter into their embrace. “But it’s fine… dragons are still predators of a sort, even if all kinds hunt different things. I enjoy a bit of a chase, especially if so well-acted.”

Anduin was thinking of a retort, something smart, something princely and proper, but it was becoming difficult to think. Instead, he squirmed his hips, shifting side to side in an innocent, tentative rub and all he could get out was a breathless, flustered gasp.

“Someone’s learning…” Wrathion murmured into his ear, and oh it was frustrating to hear him talk nonsense again, but Anduin couldn’t be bothered to fight him this time. He was warm and firm and he could feel his hardness pressing through his clothes and f..fuck , that was amazing. Even though he blushed in shame just thinking the swearword.

“Anduin?” Wrathion was calling him, and he had no idea why. It was a task, keeping the pace with his hips, rocking back and forth, side to side, while standing on sand. He needed to find a proper way to do this, a better leverage so he could press harder into that wonderful heat, so he could get more friction, a firmer touch. “Ah… Prince Anduin? ...are you still listening?”

Anduin didn’t want to, but he was too good of a boy to not halt at that and pay attention. “Yes?” He was breathing audibly, heaving small gasps of air through his mouth. His vision was blurry somehow, and he needed a moment to register that his eyes were only half-open. His lashes felt like they weighed a million tonnes.

Slowly, in a moment of embarrassed clarity, he lowered his leg from where he had hooked it around Wrathion’s waist. His face was burning. He needed to will himself to unclasp his hands from the other’s arms, and for a crazy moment he was sure he had left imprints behind. Then he realized Wrathion was a dragon, and couldn’t really be hurt that way. Irrationally, he was flushed with warm need again and he shifted, hips twisting first forward into what he knew was pleasure, then back away, pretending nothing ever happened.

Wrathion’s hands slid to his hips and gripped, holding him in place. He looked mighty pleased with himself and the situation, that infuriating smile plastered on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I would say the Crown Prince of Stormwind was rubbing his little cock into me just now. What happ-”

“What?!” Anduin was more appalled at the wording than the fact that his misbehaviour was pointed out. His face felt like he stood at a furnace and he hated how easily he blushed at the slightest thing, and that Wrathion just knew how to push him around. “That’s nonsense!” He said, with all the dignity that yet remained in him.

“Of course it is,” Wrathion amended, inclining his head in a mockingly deferential manner. He bent towards Anduin and pressed his mouth to his ear, whispering, “There is no way a pretty human boy like you would be all over a dragon…”

It was a silly thing to say. Anduin wanted to tell him off for being so blatant, maybe even call him out on the fact that he wasn’t much of a dragon just yet, but his lips were at his ear, his breath warm and damp, and it tickled and sent embarrassing shivers down his side. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut, strangely disoriented as he grabbed for Wrathion’s head, to push him away at first, changing his mind before he could really try. His fingers knocked his turban off, seeking the strands of black hair beneath, soft but thick like a mane. He sighed for the way they tickled the tips and the insides of his fingers, something so simple, yet so intimate. Anduin mumbled something that was lost as soon as he tilted his head and bumped his nose against the other’s. Wrathion took the cue and kissed him, pressing his tongue, wet and hot, against his lips.

Understandably, Anduin didn’t want to admit to it, but this wasn’t the first time. He knew that clever tongue by now and he was flushed with excitement when he felt it stroking his lips, sliding past, meeting his. It was slick and sweet, tasted faintly of ash, and he could feel its wonderful warmth all the way to the tips of his fingers. Every time, it felt like a promise of something more, and he was greedy for it, craving the heat and the gentle pleasure. The two of them might have disagreed about a lot of things, but when they kissed it still felt like they spoke the same language. Wrathion knew just how to bite on his tongue to make him whine, and he knew just how to tilt his head so their lips melted together. 

Their kiss made a wet smack in the quiet night, so loud that Anduin jumped a bit, gripping Wrathion’s hair tighter. Sure enough, the dragon chuckled, laughing at him. Anduin grumbled annoyed nonsense, pulling away from that mean mouth, tracing the other’s jaw line with his fingertips. He felt out the wisps of his beard and stroked, amazed as always. Anduin himself had yet to develop a need to shave at fourteen; he was still as smooth as a little boy even though he was growing up.

“Done already, Prince Anduin?” Wrathion taunted to get his attention and of course he flushed, glaring, defiant.

“No,” Anduin huffed, scratching at his chin with dull nails as some meagre form of revenge. It only served to make the damn dragon grin.

“I had hopes,” he purred, pulling him closer by his hips, his elegant hands with all those pretty rings gripping the boy’s soft buttocks. He pulled them apart, kneading, massaging with gentle insistence, and Anduin found himself gasping, bending his head to hide his face against Wrathion’s shoulder.

“Don’t…” He whimpered, clinging, squirming, tensing up. He wanted, so bad, to open his thighs a little more, to get those hands somewhere else, but it was beyond embarrassing. He was tingling there, and it was strange, the anticipation and the desire clouding his better judgement. All this was not supposed to happen. His father would have Wrathion’s head if he found out, and Anduin himself would possibly be incarcerated in his room for life. But thoughts along that line didn’t quite register when he was hard, grinding his hips carefully into Wrathion’s thigh. He could feel his little cock twitch as Wrathion pulled him closer with another tender squeeze to his ass. Oh it was naughty and wrong, Anduin knew very well, but even he wasn’t enough of a good boy to resist completely.

Blindly, his hands finally moved from Wrathion’s hair, down along his torso to his hips, pawing, careful, pushing at his clothes. He was breathing hard and loud, leaving a smear of spit on the other’s shoulder as he couldn’t quite close his mouth now, but it didn’t seem to matter. Wrathion’s lips were at his ear, and just the way he exhaled was sending sweet shivers down his spine. His arms broke out in goosebumps under his clothes and he whined, trying to deny how amazing that felt while he pressed closer for more.

His fingers finally slipped under his clothes, caressing the warm skin of his stomach, smooth at the sides with a trail of dark hair running down from his navel that Anduin liked to tug at and play with. He would stroke it all the way to his belt and then stop to listen to the other breathe, then move back up and stroke again, his own little game of tease. It wasn’t as clever and mean as what Wrathion did to him all the time, but it was enough as long as it kept him interested.

He barely had time to circle his fingertips around his navel a third time before he was moved. Wrathion unclasped his cape and laid it on the sand, then steered him to it, pressing on his shoulders until he crumbled and sat down onto it, knees pulled up, gazing at those ruby red eyes. He felt very small sitting there, although Wrathion himself wasn’t much taller than him when in his human form.

“You wanted to look at the sea, didn’t you?” Wrathion whispered. It didn’t make any sense to Anduin; they had started out their conversation by watching the sea, yes, but his focus was diverted and he no longer remembered why he wanted to just stand there in silence, watching the dark night waves crash on the shore.

Then Wrathion pushed him onto his side and climbed behind him on the silk drape, smoothing his front against his back, pressing a long, quiet kiss to his ear and Anduin sighed, face flushed red. Now he understood what was happening and he wanted it, even if he wouldn’t say so just yet. As his friend’s hand ran down along his side, stroking his hip and thigh, he pressed back, rubbing himself into the obvious hardness he felt. It was good to know that Wrathion was not unaffected, that he wasn’t just fumbling around, despite how much he felt like a fool.

The hand that was resting on his hip slid forward, sure and warm, covering the bulge in his trousers. He had been waiting for it to happen, and when it finally did he jolted, breathing out, pushing his hips forward to get more, anything. The hand pressed back against him and gripped his hard little cock as he moaned, covering his face with both hands. It felt so good, so good, and he still wanted more. He could tell Wrathion did too, he was rubbing into him from behind, rocking gently, their clothes rustling, in the way. He wanted them gone. He wanted that warm hand with the pretty rings on his skin, he wanted to feel just how hard Wrathion was for him and he wanted the heat, the rush of pleasure, the bliss.

“What’s wrong…?” Wrathion was whispering against his neck, his lips leaving searing little kisses there, damp and sweet, sucking gently, mindful not to make a mark. “You’re squirming, Anduin…”

He still was a good boy, he always would be a good boy. Answering a question of concern, even if it was clearly fake and a tease, was second nature to him. “N.. Nothing’s wrong…” He sounded strange even to himself. That was a high voice, a little boy voice, begging and adorable, flawlessly polite. “Just…”

“Just?” Wrathion’s deft fingers undid the clasp of his belt. To Anduin’s ears, the noise was loud and embarrassing, but he would never think of stopping it now. He knew what was coming, he wished it, he dreamed of it sometimes, and it was always wonderful.

“Just… you’re…” He trailed off, unable to finish whatever accusation his mind had come up with as his trousers fell open and his cock was gripped, squeezed, stroked just right. His meaning fell apart into a jumble of desperate sounds, pleasured, breathless, a flustered plea for more lost in the midst.

“Hmm? I didn’t catch that, dear prince…” He sounded devious even when his words were muffled in the crook of Anduin’s neck, his mouth busy sucking and nibbling on his silky, young skin. If Wrathion had been a lesser dragon, he might have wanted to take a solid bite from that tasty flesh. As such, he was more than pleased with just teasing Anduin with his teeth, feeling his little twitches and jolts when he bit a little too hard.

He couldn’t answer with more than a simple shake of his head. The hand in his trousers was building a rhythm, up, down, quickly, making his skin burn, his stomach clench and coil. He bucked, shoving into the sensation with childish glee, wanting to keep the pace but stuttering then thrusting too hard as his need spiked. Anduin was doing his best to cover his mouth, he had both hands clamped to his lips, and still the noises spilled, soft, high, a beautiful boy soprano. He had tears in his eyes, tears of pleasure and frustration, and he could hardly see anything of the serene beach night that blanketed them. His belt clinked, his clothes rustled, he could hear the slick noises of his foreskin sliding up and down the crown of his cock, every sound amplified, clear even through Wrathion’s laboured breathing just beneath his ear.

It wouldn’t take long, not with all that teasing, but as his moans of pleasure were reaching a frantic frequency, Wrathion began slowing down. Anduin shook his head, whimpered as the disappointment flooded him, and then a tentative hope and excitement. Wrathion wouldn’t just leave him like this, after all, he was certain of that. He liked, well… the end result… too much for that to happen.

Still, as the hand gripping his cock finally came to a halt, just cupping his little sack, he grappled for his forearm and ended up clawing at it, trying to make it move. When Wrathion wouldn’t budge, he huffed, glancing over his shoulder and seeing nothing. He realized his vision was blurred because of tears and he wiped at them hastily, pretending they weren’t there in the first place.

“What is it?” He asked. He was pouting. It was a juvenile thing, but he couldn’t stop, no matter how innocent Wrathion tried to look. He was denied, and nobody enjoyed that. “Why stop?”

“Well, Prince Anduin…” Wrathion sighed, snatching his hand free from Anduin’s grasp. It was slick with his fluids, some of it clinging to the tip of his fingers and he leaned in to lick them clean, humming. Anduin stared, embarrassed, squirming his hips.

“S-Stop that… it’s dirty…” He mumbled, and he knew what hypocrisy that was.

Wrathion’s eyes flashed in the darkness. They seemed to glow brighter, like embers, like fire, but red as blood. “I wasn’t done speaking, Anduin.”

He snapped his mouth shut, chilled. He waited and watched as that clever tongue cleaned the long fingers, coating them in saliva instead of his young precum. He swallowed. He was reminded of just how clever that tongue could be elsewhere, licking, stroking, wet and soft. And his mouth, so warm when kissing, even hotter if he wanted it to be.

“Hmm…” Wrathion murmured, wriggling his fingers a bit as he looked Anduin in the eyes again. “What I wanted to say, dear prince, is that the whole situation seemed quite… one sided.” He cocked an eyebrow when Anduin opened his mouth to protest. “...yes.” He nodded, pleased that he had put a stop to a stream of babbling, flustered excuses. “You need a bit of discipline. As a priest in training… can you really afford to be so selfish? Tsk.”

“But!” Anduin yelped, the retort snapped in half as Wrathion grabbed his hips and rubbed his clothed cock against his buttocks. He stammered, reaching back, patting the other’s thigh blindly, clueless how to make this right but wanting to, so bad.

“Now, I think it is clear what I mean…” Wrathion smiled, and Anduin heard it in his voice, the mean streak, what a thrill. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the hand on his hip move slowly back, sliding, slipping between the two of them, then down, pressing hard into the crack of his ass. He could feel it right there, so close to what he needed, but the clothes were in the way and the reach wasn’t right. It was strange but amazing, sending the oddest jolts of pleasure through his loins when that finger rubbed him in circles, pressing tighter, deeper. His mouth hung open, and he waited, wanton, wordless.

As Wrathion pulled his hand away - the  _ tease  _ \- he sucked in air harshly and tossed his arm across his eyes in a foolish attempt at hiding. His other hand pushed at his clothes, tugging the trousers lower on his hips.  The night air was cool, made the skin of his buttocks and thighs break out in goosebumps, but he didn’t stop squirming until his trousers were down at his knees. They were stuck there, however, and he whined, kicking a little, shivering.

“Yes, yes, I’ll hurry… you learned nothing, I see…” Wrathion chuckled, moving to help him with his clothes, pulling first his boots off then the royal blue trousers, leaving him half naked. He brushed his shirt up under his armpits, exposing his ribs and stomach, trailing his fingertips along the slight shape of his waist. “I don’t think I say it often enough, do I…?” He hummed, and trailed off, leaving the other wondering.

“S...Say what?” Anduin mumbled helplessly, still tingling, both his teased hole and his teased cock, feeling cold, feeling empty, full of need.

“What a pretty human boy you are,” Wrathion replied in a murmur, touching his tailbone and sliding his fingers down that warm crack again. Anduin felt heat flood him at the praise, his stomach doing a silly swoop of glee. It was a foolish thing, he would think later, but right then hearing that embarrassing compliment just felt too good.

His leg slid up, out of the way, leaving him open, easy to caress. He knew where he wanted that finger, but saying it was impossible. He whined when it simply stayed put, a promise, but nothing more.

“No..o…” He heaved, gulping down air, realizing he’s been holding his breath when that fingertip started stroking so close to his spot. His cock was leaking on its own, twitching, cold. He kept his arm across his eyes, but he grabbed himself with his free hand and began stroking softly, the way he always did at night, flushed with guilty thrill. He just knew Wrathion would call him out on it, he would say something dirty and clever and he would feel exposed and shameful, but that would hardly be enough to stop him.  He wanted this now, the pleasure, the heat, the strange overwhelming bliss at the end. So he kept stroking, picking up pace, soon filling the silence between them with the slick noises of his sliding foreskin.

It seemed like Wrathion was listening to that, or even watching his arm move. It was hard to admit, even to himself, how much that idea excited him. A good boy didn’t stroke his cock in such helpless lust, and certainly didn’t do it in front of someone else.

“...that’s some sight, Prince Anduin…” Of course he had been watching, and of course he would comment. His finger finally slid over the boy’s hole and Anduin whimpered, jolting in need, his legs shifting, trying to offer more, to convey his wordless plea. As the smooth pad circled his squeezing ring, Wrathion kept murmuring at his ear. “Your royal hand, caressing your sweet young cock… ahhh, it makes my mouth water…”

“Wh… what…?” Anduin whispered, sliding his arm off of his face as he turned, peering over his shoulder. He met Wrathion’s hungry gaze, and he blushed, shying away from the other when he slid his tongue across his lips. Irrationally, he thought of a big black dragon licking him head to toe and beside feeling instinctive fear, he knew he was longing, curious. “...what… are you saying…?” As his mind slowly moved away from that strange, intriguing imagery and supplied him with what Wrathion really meant, he shivered and ducked his head. His eyes flickered, nervous. “...oh.”

“Oh, yes. I see you remembered…” Wrathion chuckled as Anduin worked to turn around onto his back. “Now, what are you doing?” He reached over and tapped his shapely little nose. Anduin flushed and bristled at the patronizing touch, shaking his head. His glare was all bravado, full of warm, excited pleading.

Wrathion pecked a small kiss to his mouth. “Ahh, it seems I have to teach you something new again.” He sighed, sitting up, brushing a hand through his mess of black hair to get it out of his face. He laid down on his back himself and curled a finger to motion the other over. “Come here. Put your knees at my head and I’ll eat you right up.”

Anduin turned and sat up as well, pulling his knees to his chest. He stared at him in open confusion, appalled and excited at the thought at the same time. “How… that’s not proper!” He declared, ducking his head and pressing his mouth to his knees as he hugged them. “...what odd things are you thinking again…?” He mumbled, more to himself than to his friend.

But of course, Wrathion was relentless. “Now, Prince Anduin… if you want to continue our little playtime, you’ll do as I say…” He got up onto one elbow and dipped his head to the side. He was smiling again, and in the darkness, his eyes were bright as stars. “Come here… have I ever hurt you with this…? Really…”

Anduin couldn’t argue. While mean and insistent, Wrathion had always been careful and tender with him, to the point that it embarrassed him to just think of it. Whatever he had planned now couldn’t possibly be painful or bad. He would just have to trust him, however strange his request seemed.

“Fine…” He mumbled, scooting towards him until Wrathion gripped his arm and halted him.

“No,” he said. His smile was predatory, knowing, and so damn satisfied that Anduin felt like smacking him. It wasn’t his fault that he was clueless about these things. Neither the teachings of his crown prince duties nor his sermons of the Light with Prophet Velen entailed how an amorous relationship worked. He knew he was expected to produce heirs with a woman once he was crowned, but frankly the idea left him more nervous than anything.

“What is it now?” He muttered. He was aware he was pouting and that it amused the other. Light damn that now. He wasn’t going to stop just for his fancy.

“Turn around.” Wrathion indicated with a finger how he wanted him.

Anduin blanked for a moment, too confused to understand how that would work. Once he realized what was expected of him, however, he blushed and turned his back towards the other, slowly scooting over him. He agonized over doing it right, trying his best to not bump into Wrathion and fumble. He was taking too long, apparently, since Wrathion grabbed his shapely slim hips and yanked him backwards with a single motion, settling his knees on either side of his face, his crotch hovering over his grinning mouth. Anduin whimpered in mortal embarrassment, covered his face with both hands and waited, burning with anticipation, for those lips to touch him, finally, again, now now now.

When nothing happened apart from his thighs and hips being caressed, he lowered his hands and glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see Wrathion that way so he curled his back and peered at him between his legs. Just looking at him right there with his mouth just inches from his swollen little sack, he was flooded with pleasure. He squirmed, his hands fluttering as he wondered where to put them. He wanted to touch himself again, stroke his cock and make it leak, but just as he was reaching for it, Wrathion pressed his hands to his back, pushing.

“Aah, looks like you can’t figure this one out on your own…” He murmured. “Let me help…”

Anduin gasped, falling to his elbows with a particularly hard shove. He scrambled for better footing on the cloak they were occupying, scooting his knees, shifting his weight. A heavy, masculine scent was invading his nose, making his head reel. He glanced down and found he was leaning right over the bulge in Wrathion’s clothes. Without warning, his mouth filled with saliva and he needed to swallow. He couldn’t think anymore. His fingers got tangled with the belt, pulling and tugging, knotting it tighter for a frustrating moment before finally getting it open. Impatient now, he pushed at the silk trousers, got them down just enough to free Wrathion’s cock from its confinement. His grateful sigh was music to his ears, no matter how nervous he still felt.

Wrathion’s human body was close to him in age, and still there were some differences that delighted Anduin. Brushing his fingers through his dark treasure trail, wrapping his hand around a shaft that was a little thicker than his own, and the strong scent of his fluids all made him squirm and try to squeeze his thighs together. It was strange to do this, especially in this odd position, but he couldn’t deny he liked it. If only Wrathion would continue too, stroke him again or more…

As he glanced down again to maybe stammer out some sort of plea and an apology for taking so long in reciprocating, he saw and felt Wrathion pull him lower down. He felt his mouth touch his sack and then the base of his cock, heated and wet and impossibly good. He moaned, closing his eyes, head bowed, hand stuttering on Wrathion’s cock, falling out of rhythm. He lost all concentration, his body focused on his desire for more of that hot pleasure, and he shivered, hips straining as he fought the need to move. It was warm, so warm and slick and he wanted more, at once.

As Wrathion reached around his thigh and took his leaking cock in his hand, he moaned again, thrusting his hips forward, his foreskin slipping down, the crown shiny with his fluids. He knew he was making a mess, coating Wrathion’s gentle fingers, dripping onto his shirt, but practicalities made little sense right then. He was frenzied, shaking, making sweet, high noises as he rocked back and forth across the other’s swirling tongue. It was just so good, so delicious.

He didn’t even mind when Wrathion tangled his free hand into his hair and pushed his face against his cock. Where it would have appalled him to be handled that way, he was too occupied with feeling good to think about what was happening. His mouth opened when it pressed against the twitching length of flesh, spilling pleasured sighs as he gave it a slow, tentative lick. As always, it tasted as good as it smelled, and he wanted more of that too. Eyes closed, breathing hard, he fought to balance himself on one arm while the other moved so he could pull back the foreskin, grip the cock at its base and steady it. Spit dribbled from the corner of his mouth and his eyes opened halfway, barely seeing from tears of pleasure. He licked at the very tip, sucked away the fluids that dripped, swallowed without thinking.

Wrathion suckled at him, his tongue slid up and down to stroke as much of his length as he could. He was moist there, his skin slick all over, the sound of the hand stroking him loud enough to make him shiver. His hips kept rocking softly, grinding into the caresses without thinking.

The hand in his hair gave his head another little push. Anduin allowed it, mouth opening, his moan of pleased surprise muffled as the crown slipped inside. His mouth felt full, his lips stretched open, and he needed to swallow quickly so he wouldn’t gag, but he loved it anyways. He couldn’t understand himself why, but the taste, the feel of how hard it was, the way it leaked onto his tongue, that it twitched when he gave it a little suck, it all just made him want to do it more.

As Wrathion sighed against his damp flesh, his hot breath sending a shiver through him, he closed his eyes and sucked softly, following the gentle insistence of the hand in his hair. His head moved only a little, up then down, taking more inside. He knew how it was done, but he was still learning, and the guidance made him feel secure that he was doing it right. Of course, Wrathion would say that he was good, but how could he be? He was moving on instinct, with no experience and very little clue how he was supposed to do it. All he knew was that it tasted good, that it felt good, and he wanted, more than anything, to feel and hear Wrathion lose himself.

When the hand left his hair, he was on his own, and he fumbled, shifting, a little nervous all of a sudden. Keeping the pace on his own seemed difficult, but he did his best, moving his head up and down, his lips sliding wetly, smacking as he moved too far up. He whimpered, frustrated that he was messing up, but he took it back inside, swallowing, sucking. His tongue stroked the tip, moving in what he hoped were circles, soft and gentle. He was so focused on getting it right that he hardly felt what was happening to himself. What mattered now was being good enough.

And he was, much to his surprise. As he found a pace he could keep and a way he could caress the rest of the shaft with his hand, he heard Wrathion’s breathing grow louder, laboured. It was wonderful, the thought that he was giving back some of what he felt. As selfish as he had been before, he wanted to make up for it, be very very good now. He sucked, tilting his head this way and that to find a position where he could take more of him inside. When he found it, he hummed in the back of his throat and sucked a little harder.

He jolted as he heard a small groan as answer. He couldn’t believe his ears. He hummed out a half-moan and sucked harder again, fighting to still keep the pace. Wrathion groaned again, grabbing his buttocks with his free hand and this time it was his stroking that stuttered. Anduin moaned, squeezing his eyes shut, thighs tensing, a new wave of pleasure washing over him. He lost track of the pace now, head bobbing erratically, spit dribbling from his mouth. His lips kept smacking, making loud wet noises as he dragged them up and down along Wrathion’s cock, but he wasn’t thinking about embarrassment now. He was listening to what he was doing to the other, wanting to do more.

Wrathion seemed to get his bearings again, though. His mouth returned to its busy sucking and kissing, and his hand once more found the rhythm he’s been keeping. Anduin shuddered as his thumb rubbed the smooth, slick head, made it drip more. He was terribly soiled now, but it only felt good.

The hand gripping his buttocks moved as well, dragging a fingertip down his cleft. He was damp with sweat there, sensitive, and the moment the finger touched his hole he gasped, tossing his head back. Wrathion’s cock fell from his mouth with a loud, smacking noise and he moaned, pressing his hips into that touch. He wanted it, so bad, but he also wanted to continue and focus on giving. He couldn’t. The moment he bent down to take Wrathion into his mouth again, he felt that fingertip press against him, circling, gentle, insistent. He breathed hard through a full mouth, eyes watering, thighs shaking. The finger pressed, pressed harder, opening him, slipping in. Anduin moaned, blind with pleasure, his cock twitching, his entire body jolting, hanging by a thread.

He couldn’t do anything, just breathe and get swept away. The finger inside him was wonderful, unspeakable, and then it started to move very gently, pressing at something that made it impossible to think or move. He was moaning, gasping, making an awful lot of noise, he knew, but couldn’t stop it. He was shaking, moving his hips, pressing back onto that finger and he couldn’t stop that either. As Wrathion’s hand on his cock picked up pace and started jerking the foreskin gentle and quick, he was coming and he couldn’t even try to hold back. His eyes were teary, his mouth slack and wet, his body releasing in long, wonderful shudders. He splattered come all over Wrathion’s chest, but most of it flowed down into his hand, slippery and hot.

The finger slid out slowly, leaving him tingling, so sensitive. He slumped on top of the other, heaving for air, blinking heavily, worn out, wrung dry. He wanted to get clean and sleep, but he remembered that Wrathion was still hard, waiting for him to continue.

His head resting on the other’s hip, he was looking straight at his twitching, hard cock when he opened his eyes. His mouth didn’t fill with saliva this time, but he knew he wanted to make Wrathion come. He moved, curling his back, and glanced at him. Wrathion was watching him, those intense eyes clouded, dark.

“Don’t stop now, dear prince…” He whispered. Gently, he buried his clean fingers in his hair again, pushing him down towards his cock. The motion started a tentative shiver in Anduin, and he followed it, opening his mouth wide to take the hard shaft inside. It still tasted great and he loved the way it felt when he sucked it. Closing his eyes, he began moving his head again, seeking that rhythm he’s found before. The hand helped this time, holding his hair, guiding him into the right pace.

He scooted up a little for better reach, moaning softly as he palmed the other’s sack with his free hand. The hairs there tickled his fingers and he almost smiled for the sensation. The waves of the sea washed up on the shore, drowning out the sucking noises and Wrathion’s laboured breathing for a few brief seconds. Then, it was only the two of them again and Anduin hummed, working his tongue carefully.

He could feel Wrathion’s hips tensing, the hand in his hair tightening its grip, pushing him closer more insistently. He did his best to keep up, sucking a little harder, the way that made Wrathion sound ecstatic before. He seemed to have found the right pace and force again; he felt nails digging into his scalp, dragging down, muted painful, nothing he couldn’t take. Wrathion grabbed the back of his neck, hissing, clamping down, and Anduin felt him jolt. In his mouth, his cock twitched against his tongue and spilled hot, salty come. He breathed through his nose, waiting, lips locked around him, still sucking, getting even the very last drop. Once the need became too much, he slowly lifted his head off, closed his mouth quickly and swallowed.

The taste lingered on his tongue, strangely delicious, Wrathion’s own, intimate. Anduin made a little noise in the back of his throat, glancing at the other. He was looking at him, the red eyes dulled now, as tired as Anduin himself felt. He smiled, pure as Light.

“Come, rest now,” Wrathion whispered. His voice was raspy, heavy with his pleasure. He patted Anduin’s thigh then waited for the young boy to scoot around and get comfortable against his side. He heard his breathing even out a few moments after that blond head dropped onto his chest. Wrathion hummed, blinking sleepily. He muttered an incantation, shrouding their presence from anyone that would stumble upon them. Satisfied, in more ways than one, he closed his eyes and allowed the scent of his human prince to lull him to well-deserved sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote is from the magnificent Christie Golden's Warcrimes.


End file.
